Before he was the Demon King, Cassius was the sin-eater, one of the few demons that could feed directly off sins.
This story was written when Cass was still a concept of a character, but it was the one that opened up his depths. More than a sin-eater, more than a demon – a being with a heart that longed for his lost soul.
He came to awareness slowly, his massive bed full to capacity, wondering what had woken him out of his lust gorged stupor. The bulky arm of an incubus weighed down his chest, as Prince of Lust he was one of the few beings who could feed them and their succubi sisters to satiation. Normally, he didn’t fall asleep afterwards, he’d run himself to exhaustion evading his father's dictates while plotting behind his back. He ran his fingertips over the crowning horn that curved along the incubus’ head, pondering briefly how much simpler his life would be if he were a mere incubus and not the son of the King of the Hells. He wasn’t that far removed from them, both needed sex to survive…
There. That was what woke him. A whisper of a summons, barely strong enough for him to hear, beckoning him instead of forcing. He couldn’t afford the distraction, yet… he was intrigued. For someone to call him so… nicely–it just never happened.
As it was, he was rarely summoned, and then only by the most powerful of magic users. It took a massive ego and balls of steel to call upon the Crown Prince of the nine Hells. As sin-eater his hunger was both legendary, and feared.
He took a long look at his bedroom door. Beyond its barriers he knew the archdemons’ ambassadors could be found circling the halls like buzzards–each one eager to gain his favor, and ready to report any gossip back to their keepers.
Without much care or consideration he pushed away the snoozing demoness currently sprawled over his lap, the woman giving a small plaintive groan before being pulled into the arms of an equally naked incubus. He’d fucked and fed like an animal, yet as always – none of them had sated his appetite for long. Again he craved...something.
A new taste, a new pleasure.
Perhaps he could run away long enough to appease his curiosity about the nature of this summons. The thought held more appeal than having to deal with the Demonarchy, or the creatures currently occupying the bulk of his bed. He felt the tug again, more insistent. Maybe, he wouldn’t get a choice after all? Rather than resist as was instinct, he welcomed the darkness that followed the summons, and allowed himself to fall through the portal as it opened beneath his feet.
The first thing he noticed was the lingering scent of decay clinging to the air, telling him even before his stark surroundings were revealed that he’d been called to the side of a sickbed. Bloody Hells. Rather than finding entertainment he’d hoped for, he’d instead be stuck dealing with yet another mortal searching for an escape from death’s embrace. Soul collecting was the Archduke Mephistopheles’s kink–not his.
“Oh...” she stammered, “I didn’t think it would work.”
Outside the golden circle he was currently trapped within stood a human girl, her large eyes round with shock. Yet even that couldn’t erase the poignant sadness enveloping her, and the evident frailty of her failing body, but her soul–he groaned–was purity itself. So good it was nearly blinding.
“Why have you summoned me?” He let some power leak into his voice, the boom of it making her flinch back and cower into herself.
The girl took a breath, her entire body trembling. Then she surprised him when rather than run, the frail chit straightened her back, threw her shoulders back and notched her chin up in challenge. A tug of recognition pulled in his chest, so sudden and unexpected it recaptured his curiosity and multiplied it.
“I would like to bargain.” Her voice barely shook.
He studied her more carefully. Fine blonde hair hung limp around the pale oval of her face, behind glasses her eyes sparkled an icy blue. Within her chest, her heart beat a weak rhythm, one that would soon fall silent. She was pretty, would likely have been beautiful were it not for the sickness that had ravaged her body. She was painfully thin, her eyes sunken, yet still bright with life even as it continued to fade.
He let the shroud of darkness that surrounded him dissipate, banked down the fire in his eyes and tilted his head, waiting to hear what she wanted.
“If you know enough to summon me, then you must also know that I am not a demon to bargain with, love. So why would you call for me?”
Her thin brows furrowed, her eyes filling with sorrow. “You’re the demon of lust, aren’t you?”
Irritation prickled. “Prince of Lust.”
With a nonchalant shrug of a shoulder, she replied, “It was one of those, shoot for the moon and you’ll at least hit the top of the tree kind of things. Figured if I started at the top…”
His lips quirked up into a grin, the amusement startling him. “Are you spouting inspirational quotes to me?” He moved to the very edge of the circle, waiting to see if she’d free him.
She scoffed. “It’s either that, or scriptures, both have been driven into my head for most of my life. As if faith and positive thinking will magically cure me.”
“You speak of magic so callously, yet here I am. Surely you must be of witch blood?” She had to possess some claim on power to have summoned him from the Nessus. Not many could boast such a feat.
“I guess. I mean, my grandma was a practicing witch, my mom thought it was a farce. She was proven right when I grew sick, and no amount of hocus pocus could stop the spread of disease. I stopped believing after they took my breasts.”
“And yet, here I am. So I ask you again, little witch, what is it you wish from me?” he purred, wanting her off-balance. He didn’t want to hear her truths, and certainly did not care for her plight. Mortals died, it was the one thing their kind excelled at.
She clasped her hands together, knotting them up as she hung her head.
“I’ve never had sex.” She mumbled, therefore he wasn’t quite sure if he’d heard her correctly. She lifted her chin once more. “I’m twenty three years old, I’m not sure how much time I have left…and I just wanted to have sex before I died.”
His body simultaneously stiffened and stilled.
“You’d bargain your immortal soul for the pleasures of the flesh?”
He’d not surrender her to the Hells, instead he’d consume her soul himself. Maybe her purity would ease some of the insatiable hunger that tormented his endless existence.
“I just…” her voice cracked, her posture faltering, “I just wanted to know what it is to be loved. Just once. I never had the opportunity to find out for myself.”
He said nothing. There was nothing to say. He routinely gorged himself on sex and lust, it meant nothing to him anymore. Wasn’t sure that it ever did. But love was a foreign concept, one to which he claimed neither access to or knowledge of.
“I was going to ask you to send me a man that could, I don’t know…show me what all the fuss is about, I guess.” Her head tilted as she assessed him, “I didn’t expect demons to look quite so… appealing.”
He smiled again, slightly less surprised than the last time. She was sweet, and entirely too amusing. And he was irresistible.
“Not too bad for a demon?” He gestured down his body, her bright eyes trailing every movement.
She nodded, mouth agape. “You’re actually kind of… stunning. You have this whole aura of sensual allure–like Dracula.”
Sure enough, at the bedside table lay a printed copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a romanticized retelling of the life of Vlad Tepes that had caused a stir noticed even in the Hells.
“I’m no vampire, love.” His voice roughened, the scent of her desire having hit him.
“Doesn’t matter, you’ll do.”
“If that’s how you feel, then why do you hesitate to break the circle?”
“Oh. Right…” With a quick sweep of her toe she breached the circle that bound him in place, freeing him without even having reached an agreement. Silly girl. Any other demon worth their weight would tear her apart and call it a day. But somehow that thought just didn’t appeal to him. Where was the fun in destroying something this delicate and unique?
“I’m tired of infirmaries. Of walking the same hallways and garden paths day in and out, watching others live their lives while waiting for my own to end…” Her words were full of conviction yet for each step he took to approach, she stepped back, until her backside hit the vanity and she could move no further. He kept walking.
“I’ll ask for a final time. What…do...you…want?”
“I want an experience of my own, a memory untainted by my illness. I want you to make me forget I am dying, and show me what it is to live.”
His fingers swept her hair back from her neck, trailing up her jaw to lift her mouth to his.
“There has to be more to life than what I’ve been allotted.”
The words settled with a jarring sense of familiarity, tugging on an unfamiliar emotion he didn’t care to process. He shoved it down and brought his lips closer to hers.
“Are you going to keep talking through it?” He brushed his lips across hers.
“Uh, no–nope not me,” she kept talking, licking her lips nervously.
“I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispered against her cheek. And he meant it. For whatever reason, he wanted to hold her like she was delicate porcelain, the kind that was worn thin with age, that you cherished because it was irreplaceable.
Her throat crackled as she swallowed, her hands tentatively circling his neck. “Don’t be, I'm tired of being treated as if I were made from glass. I won’t break.”
But she had been broken. As he unbuttoned her shirt it revealed the knitted edges of fading scars. He removed her glasses and set them on the dresser behind her, taking a moment to collect himself. Mortals were so fragile.
His fingertips gently traced the skin where her breasts had once been. He touched her not inquisitively or gently, but full of reverence, feeling nothing but awe for her body. For the scars left by the battles she’d fought, and the war she’d inevitably lose. Her breath caught and she swayed. He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her up, not wanting to rush. She was a delicacy, a taste to be savored.
“Open your eyes,” he said, tilting her face back up. “I want you to know who’s kissing you. I want to know you won’t be imagining I’m some sort of fantasy bloodsucker while I kiss you...”
Her eyes blinked open, the gray flecks in the blue bright, her pupils eating up nearly all of the color.
“No vampires,” she said quietly. “I want to kiss a demon instead.” Her hands wove into his hair and pulled his head down, her lips hesitating over his.
He kissed her slow, sucking at her mouth, easing her into what he needed from her. Her tongue sought out his mouth first, and he took the cue to deepen the kiss, twining his tongue with hers, pulling back to nibble at her bottom lip which was plump with desire.
Her hands tightened in his hair, her body depending entirely on his strength to hold her up, so he hefted her up, guiding her legs around his waist, holding her under her ass as he walked them back to her bed. She weighed almost nothing.
He lay her down and tugged up her gown, her innocent white cotton panties bringing another smile to his face. She had placed her arms over her chest, shy and trying to hide from him. She didn’t know that she was more bare to him than anyone who could ever see just her body. And she was a thing of beauty. Selfless, inquisitive, hopeful though she had all the reason in the world to have lost faith.
He lifted her arms over her head, holding down her wrists as his mouth moved down the column of her neck. She was making soft little noises, squirming under him, unaware of what she was seeking, but asking nonetheless.
He kissed every inch of her silky skin and the rough lashes that marred her torso until she squealed, then giggled, trying to free her hands from his grip. He kept her prisoner beneath his lips until her embarrassed giggles turned into whimpers of need.
He moved his leg between her thighs, so her rocking hips had something to relieve the pressure, and released her hands so he could move down her body. He trailed soft kisses and slow licks all the way down, her hands back in his hair, her back arching up to meet his mouth.
His fingers found her damp folds, sliding back and forth until she opened fully. With his thumb circling her clit, he pushed one finger into her sheath, her body instinctively tightening against the invasion.
He moved back up to kiss her again. Slow and deep, her moans getting lost in his mouth. He eased his finger in and out slowly, adding another when he felt her getting more plump, her wetness dripping down his hand. Her felt her stretching, felt her finally accepting, then moved more, his thumb steadily circling.
“Oh god, don’t stop.” She broke off their kiss, just to make demands.
And damn it all, he smiled again.
Then his mouth went back to hers, sucking the plump lips, letting his teeth scrape as he pulled back, and with a soft grunt, her back shot up like a bowstring, her sheath tightening around his fingers in pulses, nails digging into his scalp, she came.
He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, lapping up her orgasm, letting her ride it out as he readied her for another. This time, he’d be buried deep in that tight, hot sheath–she was ready for him.
“Holy fuck.” She said, breathless and panting. “Don’t… no more… oh god…” and she was there again already, her body on the edge.
“you’re certain about this?” He stopped licking to ask. For whatever reason, he needed her to be sure. “I don’t even know your name?” and he needed to. He wasn’t going to let her fade from his memory as life faded from her.
“Ava. It’s Ava.” She pulled at his shoulders, trying to pull him up her body. “Please. I want to know…”
Such sweet pleading. With a final lick, and a sharp suck of her hardened little bud, he eased up onto his elbows, pulling her legs around his waist.
“Ava.” Her name sounded like a benediction rolling off his tongue. “I’m going to be inside you now.” He kissed her when he saw her eyes sharpening. Needed her to stay in her haze, primed and on the verge… “Your innocence belongs to me.”
She nodded, gasping for breath as he prodded at her entrance.
One hard thrust and he was in. Her nails gouged his back, the sharp pain sending a flash of pleasure through him, so intense that he pulled back and thrust again, harder.
“Ouch,” she yelped, slapping his chest. “I know what I said, but ease up a bit will you?”
He laughed. Buried in her tight sheath, his cock aching with the need for release and he laughed.
“Sorry, love.” He brushed her hair from her face gently, with tenderness. “Ava.” He amended. She deserved her name, not the meaningless endearment he bestowed on all who entered his bed.
He leaned over her and took her mouth again, deep, devouring, his tongue exploring and encouraging. Her legs relaxed, one heel running up the back of his leg, hooking her leg around his waist. His tongue and lips pulled at her mouth, teeth bumping against hers as her hunger increased.
He felt her pulsing around him, that tight clutch of hers sucking him deeper- he needed to move. He rocked his hips slowly, watching her face. Her husky moans spurred him on.
He got up onto his knees, holding her legs up around his waist and pumped in and out, grinding their hips together as she twisted her hands into the bedsheets. But damn he wanted those nails dug in–she didn’t, however.
Instead she moaned when he nipped at her earlobe, and shivered when he grazed his teeth down her neck, his fingers searching out her throbbing clit. He rubbed it, pressure firm as he fucked her harder, her panting moans and rocking hips had him so fucking close…
“Oh yes, right...there.”
The next instant her back arched, her legs tightened around his waist, and she let out a most wonderful cry while holding him deep inside. And upon hearing that glorious sound, he let his own climax wash through him, giving into a blinding release.
He collapsed over her, ear against her chest, listening to the irregular rhythm of her heart. Her fingers ran through his hair, twisting up then neatening it, mindlessly, the same way his thumb dragged back and forth across her side. He was at peace. For the moment. For once.
“your heart?” It had faltered, her breathing slowing.
“I told you. I’m dying.” She took in a deep breath, and he lifted his head off her so she could breathe easier. “They’ve been removing pieces of me for years hoping to stop the spread, eventually I just ran out of spare parts.” She laughed lightly, but he felt her sadness. Along with an answering pang in his own chest. Again that strange familiarity, lingering like a ghost in the recesses of his mind.
He eased off her, lifting her easily, and carried her into her bathing room where he washed her carefully while she looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Normally, he’d run as soon as he’d had his fill, but not this time. Because for some idiotic reason, he actually wanted her to look at him with her heart bleeding into her eyes. Needed to feel, even for a moment that he himself was in fact…loved.
He wrapped the towel around her then himself and carried her back to her bed, laying her on top of him and holding her close.
“Prince, does this mean there is an afterlife?” her voice was whisper soft, full of hope. “Will I get to be with you?”
The mere thought of it had his insides twisted. She would be now. She had bargained her eternal soul for something he took so for granted…
His thoughts blanked as her hot mouth wrapped around his cock.
“All the hells. Ava!” His hips bucked at the shock of the sensation, his body no longer sated, but ravenous once more.
“I’m only going to have one shot at this, so might as well try it all,” she spoke quickly, eager to get back to the task at hand.
She licked, sucked, took him so deep she gagged, tears running down her cheeks, but still she kept at it, eager didn’t even begin to describe. He groaned, his hand on the back of her head, guiding her into a steady rhythm… then she stopped, releasing him with a pop and climbing over him. She bit her lip as she tried to guide him inside of her, and he took pity, fisting his own erection, rubbing it against her, spreading the moisture before plunging in deep.
“For a being that’s supposed to be horrid, you’re actually beautiful,” she said, moaning as he stretched her wide. “I’m glad I picked you.” Her words were nearly lost, his own growls loud and getting louder.
She rode him hard, taking everything she could.
When they were both once again sated, she cuddled up next to him and he wrapped his arm around her, listening to her heart beat falter.
“Ava?” He jiggled his arm. Not liking the direction this was going.
“It’s okay. I’m ready.”
He felt the pain radiating from her as her body fought for life.
“Sleep then. Be easy. Just sleep.” He whispered against her hair, using his power to relax her body into slumber.
When her heart stopped, he wasn’t prepared. Sadness seeped into his chest, and fuck it, he let it. She deserved that much. She had lightened his heart, even for the moment they’d had, the least he could do was grieve for her. Just a little.
“She was so close to salvation. Couldn’t you have shown her mercy?” A Celestial whose face he recognized but name he’d conveniently forgotten looked down on him with scorn.
“Mercy is your charge, not mine. But you’re in luck today, the girl outwit me. I was so caught up in debauchery I neglected to discuss terms of payment.”
There’d been an understanding between them sure, but technically his terms hadn't been agreed upon. And with their bargain left unsealed, his sin couldn’t taint her soul, leaving her as pure as when he found her.
“Take good care of her in Heaven, she’s earned her place there.”
Without another word he then slipped back through the opening portal, one that would take him back to his own bedroom, and his own living Hell.
“Basileus was looking for you.” Prince Azadiel spoke from a darkened corner, where he sat on a chair, eyes of piercing blue gleaming from inside the shadows.
“Got summoned.” Cass nodded. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
“Before Basileus, I was your teacher Cassius.” So he said, Cass had no memory of this, and tried not to dwell on a past that only brought blinding headaches. “And in all these years not once have you succeeded in lying to me. I know where you were just now, and I know what you did. At long last, I believe the time has come for you to meet a certain girl I've been looking after.”
This was unexpected. “You’ve been hiding a lover from me?”
“Not mine...” For a moment Azadiel looked as if he were about to say more, but quickly changed tactics. “I believe she can help you.”
He’d been meeting with the Prince for one reason–their desire to see his father deposed a mutual goal.
“Who in their right mind would ever support my efforts to overthrow my father?”
Just like that, he was thrown back in Hell, thrust into a life marked by the mad machinations of his father, and the twisted depravities of his court. Yet for a brief moment, he’d come as close today as a demon could to feeling loved.
“Oh, I never claimed she was right of mind.” Azadiel actually smiled when speaking, which was odd, for no matter how many years between them, he could not recall ever seeing his former teacher smile. “She’s been a long time prisoner of your father, and is the true Queen of the Warlocks.”
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